


Call me a Casualty

by Webtrinsic



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anxiety, Bruises, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Medical Inaccuracies, Past Rape/Non-con, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, References to Depression, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Skip comes back, Suicide Attempt, Tony finds out about Skip, Triggers, in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 00:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: After some odd years, Skip returns and Tony figures out just what happened to his protege.





	Call me a Casualty

Peter’s tears didn’t let up as he surveyed his room and himself, bruises and hickeys, bitemarks jumping out between his ripped clothes. His posters were torn, shelves holding on with only one hook while the contents scattered throughout the floor. Blood splattered from his struggle, staining the carpet. His thighs were sticky along with his bed and it was enough to drag himself to the bathtub.

He’d have walked but his foot had begun to bleed when Skip had yanked him back causing him to step on a knocked over and broken microscope Tony had bought him.

Sobbing, Peter reached for the tubs dial and turned it as hot as it could go. The heat radiating off the water burned but not as much as it did when he pulled himself under the spray. His pale skin screamed until it was red and his senses could only burn and sizzle until he shut the spray off completely.

“Dirty,” the boy murmured to himself, still feeling so dirty even after trying to burn the touch and filth Skip had left on him once again just like he’d promised to all those years ago.

He’d almost turned the water on once again but colder, but he didn’t want his pores to close on the sullied skin. The bathtubs floor had stained red, but the cut on his foot had stopped flowing. Looking equally distressed as he felt, red and angry, inflamed. 

Using the wall of the tub to pull himself from the floor, Peter kept himself up and fell against the counter. Head lifting, a broken sob escaping at the sight of himself in the mirror. The cool air extracting the red warmth from his skin, causing him to shiver. The bruises on his arms were a mottled blue and green, black and blue lining his hips, red bites crawling up along his throat and jaw. Nail marks ran from his arms to his back, Skip’s blood also lay beneath his own fingertips. He’d scratched him to hell until his arms were pinned.

His bottom lip was split while both were slightly inflamed, he didn’t want to explain why that was. He hadn’t noticed it before but his brow was bleeding too, the memory of the door being kicked in, hitting his shoulder and his hair being yanked before his head was slammed on his desk after the contents had been swept off came to mind as an explanation.

Before he could stop himself, his fist hit the mirror and the wall behind it broke too. Blood dripped from his knuckles, falling as quickly as his tears. The instinct to smash the sink in front of him would have won if it weren't for the beeping of his suit; meaning the scanner that checked every hour noticed his increased heart rate.

Limping out, he looked up at the ceiling where the suit hid, noticing the latch trying to open because of his spider drone. Peter webbed it shut before it could open, not even flinching when his sense hummed in danger of the lego under his hurt foot before he stepped on it anyway and opened his closet.

He was almost sure his ears were ringing, or maybe the world around him had fallen silent the same as how the pain and any true feeling at all had gone numb. 

The tears that fell from his eyes were fruitless, he wasn’t calling for help, he wasn’t in any pain he could understand. But it was familiar, he’d been here before. The last time Skip…

Peter shook the thoughts away, he couldn’t entertain those thoughts again. He didn’t want to leave May alone. Even if he didn’t want to infect her with his sickness.

Pulling the rest of his torn clothes off, he slid a fresh pair of boxers on before opening the bottom drawer. Red and gold fabric stood out, May had bought it for him after she found out the Spider-Man secret.

She didn’t have to be exactly thrilled with Tony, but she knew how much he meant to him. 

Peter slid the onesie on before heading to the living room, eyes fixated on the door which was barely ajar. Pushing the door shut the best he could, he locked the chain and slid a chair under the knob for good measure giving a last bit of webbing as well.

Wrist prickling to an old ache he tried desperately to ignore, Peter wobbled into May’s room. Looking around until he realized what he was missing, the blanket. Which was also decorated in Iron-Man apparel, he’d hidden away in that blanket the last time this happened.

He’d basked in that blanket when he hurt himself after the fallout. The blanket stayed with him when he’d been admitted to the hospital after his...attempts… and it was in the car with him on the way to Ben’s funeral. 

After the ferry, well he’d stuffed it in May’s closet upset. Iron-Man had helped him through the pain of growing up, the pain of being himself, but that night he knew Iron-Man, Tony Stark, would never truly be there for him at all.

After Tony had asked him to be an Avenger, no matter how much he wanted to pull that blanket back out and cry into it. He didn’t because doubt never truly went away for him. Nothing ever did.

He didn’t know how to live without worrying about every little thing. His shoulders and neck almost never were loose, too weighed down by the weight of the world. Sleep didn’t exactly come easy because his head replayed every single thing he’d tried to leave in the past.

Peter was just used to living telling everybody else everything was okay when it wasn’t. Could he even tell May? Would he tell Tony? How could he? May he’d probably have to because the house was a wreck.

But Tony? No, he’d been trying so hard to just show the man Spider-Man. Not Peter Parker, who wasn’t worth his time. Wasn’t worth him. Spider-Man didn’t fear everything, Spider-Man didn’t fight without all his effort. Peter feared everything, everyone, himself. He couldn’t fight back, couldn’t breathe when someone held eye contact.

Couldn’t be comfortable in the presence of others. In some way, Spider-Man lived where Peter Parker did not. If Tony saw Spider-Man this way, the Peter way. He would leave, he’d known he was truly right to abandon him. How could he tell him when he was the only thing keeping him there?

_No_ , Spider-Man lived for others. Peter Parker had lived for Ben Parker, for Aunt May, for his parents! But Tony, without his knowledge had helped, even if they hadn’t even officially met at the time.

The tears that continued to fall were quiet as the blanket draped his shoulders and he crawled into the center of May’s bed. Knowing she’d be home in two days, he could sit 'till then. No need to eat, he’d just sleep it all away. If he could because all he could think now was he _wasn’t_ safe. Not with the door broken, not alone in pajamas, limping and sore.

Skin so goddamn sensitive even when his mind felt so numb. An old thought again coming to light, reminding him where Ben’s old gun lay deep within the closet right next to him. The feelings he didn’t understand but consumed him whole as if he were nothing. He could be over in one quick click. One movement. It’d be over. He couldn’t do that though, not with people who still needed saving. 

But he couldn't do that as Peter, could he? No, no he couldn’t. Could he even move his fingers? God he didn’t know, all he knew was the warmth of the blankets on him were doing nothing to stop the tears that continued to fall. But they kept him there, in bed, unmoving, possibly unblinking. He couldn’t tell.

Everything was dark, yet he didn’t know when he could have closed his eyes. Maybe it was like his ears, deafening, blinding, running him into the ground to silence him.

Stopping, drowning, smothering him into a fine paste, into nothing. Gravel, dirt, dust. Made him unable to escape the real filth that Skip had always told him he was.

Even with the speed healing, the bruises flared and laughed, mocked him. Stained, tattooed, painted his skin. Announced their presence. Stole the show. He’ been branded again. Not by himself, though the almost invisible lines on his wrist from the last time were his own. But no one else could see them, not with his jacket, not with his healing just too good. It must only be his enhanced sight that let him know they were there.

Maybe it was that he was one of the only people who knew those scars, those wounds, those battles were on his arms, to begin with. No one had to know. No one needed to pity him, he didn’t want people to be sorry for him.

He wasn’t even sorry for himself, more concerned burdening someone with his un-importance was far worse. His problems should keep him up at night, not others.

Burrowing further into the sheets, hiding his head from the world he couldn’t see, whether it be from the tears clouding his eyes, or it just being too dark. Or his eyes weren’t open...god he didn’t know, he just didn’t care because he felt nothing and everything in his head.

\---

When the monitor for Peter’s heart rate went off, Tony had almost blacked out. Worry gripped him, but Peter was a teenage kid he really didn’t know if calling at this time was okay. But then again Peter had always been a little antsy, anxious, he could be having a nightmare, a panic attack. God, he pushed the call through anyway. But it continued to ring, that almost made the billionaire quit because hell maybe this was just teenage boy stuff.

Activating the spider drone, it went off to check on the boy and would simply tell him if he really needed to be worried or not. The drone made a noise of complaint, alerting him that Peter had covered its way out. 

Again it made him feel odd about the possible implication of that until Karen activated. Scanning the room with what was almost echolocation, it’d taken days for Tony to set that up.

“There’s blood, and everything’s a mess,” she exclaimed sounding deathly afraid, helpless. Peter’s suit wasn’t the same as his, it was flimsy and couldn’t move to go help her creator as Friday could.

Friday could actively save him with the suit, Karen could only sit and wait, alert. Nothing more.

The suit melted on the billionaire, contouring as it always did to his physique before flying out of the roof's hatch at high speed. Tony could fully allow himself to worry, heart beating he could swear he heard the clinks of his armor as his chest expanded and deflated harshly against the metal.

Landing on the roof the suit retracted, except the thin layer that covered his hands stayed. Clicking down the steps in some of his finest shoes, Tony made it to the apartment. Flabbergasted at the sight of the door. Dented near the handle with the splinters in disarray on the door's frame.

Trying the knob, it opened but got stuck. Peaking through the crack in the door, he could see the chair in front.  With the force of his armors fist, he popped the door open, the chair splintering and breaking with the force. That wasn’t the problem though, it was the webbing he’d have to push through.

The new bleeding edge armor shot out with a sword attachment, cutting through the silk and stepping in. Using another chair, Tony pressed the door shut again. Surveying the rest of the apartment, Tony tentatively stepped forward. Noticing the wet spots on the carpet, both exiting the bathroom, bedroom, and May’s room.

The Avenger peaked in the boy’s room, a gasp getting stuck in his throat at the sight before he jolted back. Moving to May’s room where the lump on the bed stole his attention.

The lump who he knew was Peter. His breathing was shallow but uneven in spots, as he stepped in, quietly moving around the other side of the bed. He could just barely see the top of the boy’s head. Wet hair soaking the pillow, brown hair a little darker when wet but furling in some spots into curls.

But what Tony could see was Peter’s brow, cut, the skin white and red. Stained ever so slightly with blood, his usually light brow dark. The growl he let out was entirely involuntary.

_He was going to kill someone._

“Pete?” 

The boy didn’t stir, not even when Tony carefully pulled the blanket down so he could see the boy’s face. He looked wrecked, afraid, vulnerable. The sleeping child still had tears staining, falling onto his face. Chuffing breaths ever so often, worry lines creasing his brow.

“Fri scan him,” He whispered, his free hand reaching out to twirl in one of the boy’s curls.

“Sir are you sure you want to know?” Friday asked, sounding afraid, nervous.

If his posture wasn’t already rigid it was now, “Yes,” he gritted out not even sure he wanted to anymore himself.

“I believe his injuries correspond with sexual assault, along with some other wounds such as a nearly dislocated shoulder, cuts that will need some butterfly bandages on his foot, and brow. Not to mention his hand may need some glass removal, and a cast for the fracture,”

“No,” he growled, not wanting to believe someone put their goddamn hands on his kid. 

“It appears so sir,” Friday returned.

“Where’s his aunt?” His voice was tight.

“Out of town on business,”

“Call her, let her know I’m taking him home to be taken care of. I’ll have the apartment fixed up,” Tony commanded, not knowing why his eyes were tearing up in his anger.

“Of course,” gently removing the first cover, Tony noticed the other blanket tightly wrapped around the boy. It was the sky with Iron-Man flying in an action pose in the center.

The bolded words stating, **“Iron-Man can and will save the day!”**

“Oh,” he sighed, pulling his pocket chief out of his suit, giving it a small lick before trying to wipe off the blood on the boy’s brow.  A whimper escaped the spider at that, eyes blearily opening before he hid in the Iron-Man blanket from the world.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know kiddo,” Tony blurted, not knowing what else to say, especially when wails tore from the boy’s throat.

“Peter, it’s okay. You’re going to come back to the compound with me, get you all cleaned up. Help your healing factor a bit,”

The teen shook his head before weeping, “You weren’t supposed to find out, you’re not supposed to see me like this,”

That hurt the older heroes heart, not as much as Peter trying to ride this out on his own. Didn’t the boy know how much he cared? How he wanted to help the boy with anything he’d possibly need? Did Peter think he didn’t care at all?

Or...god no, if the kid saw him how he’d seen Howard as a child he’d lose it. _Peter could trust him, Peter could come to him, Peter wasn’t insignificant in his eyes._

“I don’t mind sweetheart, I want to help,” Tony tried to encourage only for Peter to shake his head. 

“You know I grew up with a father I knew didn’t care for me at all, someone who brushed me off when I was hurt and only paid attention when I needed to be punished. I couldn’t go to him when I needed, I don’t want you to think you can’t come to me when you need it,” Tony admitted.

Peter sat up slowly, wincing with his head down and god Tony hated it. He didn’t know what to do, or how to handle this but he did want to comfort and shelter the poor boy.  Peter still lost, pushed himself up on an elbow. Curling towards the older man, head resting on his thigh. The teen's arms wrapping around the man’s waist in comfort.

Tony continued to pet Peter’s hair, “Happy’s on his way with the car, but we can head out whenever you’re ready Bambi,”  The young spider nodded, pliant as he felt Tony examine the hood of his pajamas but he couldn’t bring himself to feel embarrassed. 

Tony’s finger traced the blue eyes of his suit on the hood, warmth spreading through his chest because in his own way Peter did come to him for comfort. The knock on the door signified Happy’s arrival, Tony decided maybe it was best to send Happy back to the car with the divider up. Doing so, the inventor waited a few moments to ask if Peter wanted to go.

Nodding, Peter sat up with Tony’s careful hands hovering. Not knowing if it’d be okay to touch or not. Peter’s hand falling into his own was enough to encourage him to help the boy sit up. Peter’s head falling on the older man’s shoulder, still for a few minutes before he could shakily stand.

The Avenger gave the boy’s hand a reassuring squeeze, “It’s alright,” Tony carefully took a step, trying to lead the boy out who followed almost softly, slowly but wobbly. Only then did Tony remember Peter’s foot, and the hand he was holding behind his back.

“Hey, wait a minute bud, sit back,” Peter winced when he placed his palms back on the bed to sit. 

Tony moved to comfort, “I’m going to have to take that glass out now,” Peter looked surprised at the statement. Well, Tony had already told him he knew what had happened.

“Do you know where there are any tweezers?” Peter pointed to the top drawer of the nightstand in response, broken and bloody hand held behind his back in protection.

“Okay,” Tony searched through the drawer until he found the sharp steel pair at the bottom. Sending a quick text to Happy to bring up some gauze. 

“Can I see your hand?” 

After a look of uncertainty, Peter gently placed the bloodied and bruised appendage in Tony’s own. The sight of it hurt, Tony couldn’t imagine the pain the boy was in especially with his extra sensitivity.

“I’m going to start kiddo,” 

“Okay,” Peter whispered, soft tears falling throughout the process. Especially when Tony fished out a long sharp dagger looking shard which was far too close to a vein for Tony’s liking.

“I think that’s all, but they’ll check again once we get home,” there was a knock on the door, “Stay here ‘kay? I’m just going to go grab the gauze,”

Peter looked worried at that, only for Tony to assure with his hand coming up to tug ever so lightly at the hood, “It’s okay, you got me right here,” the boy’s uninjured hand came up to hold the fabric as he watched Tony quickly exit the room. 

One he’d moved the chair and opened the door, Happy looked at him questioningly and concerned, eyes drifting in hopes he’d see the boy. 

“He’s in May’s room,” Tony explained, “I’ll let you know what happened later,”

Happy nodded, heading back down to the car. Tony held the package of gauze, shutting the door once again before rushing as professionally as he could back to Peter.  He _had_ to stay strong, but caring, Peter needed him now and he intended to be there. The sight that met him wasn’t pleasant, Peter had retreated back under the sheets. Shaking and crying.

“I’m back sweetheart, it’s okay,” He assured, taking a seat close enough for Peter to know he was there. Peter continued to cry, his heart stuttering at the care he’d been receiving. A heart-wrenching contrast to the treatment he’d endured not long ago.

“It’s alright Peter, come on,” He urged lightly, not wanting the cuts to get infected.

The young vigilante listened, sitting up and crawling out. Hugging the Iron-Man blanket and giving his hand to Tony to wrap. The billionaire wrapped it firmly, not tight enough to hurt but enough to help stop the renewed bleeding.

“All done, bring your foot up for me sweetheart,”   Peter did as much, Tony frowning at the wound. Lego bit’s broken on the skin causing him to reach for the tweezers once again. It ended in more bleeding, sniffles, and a long piece of gauze.

“You ready Pete?”

“Yeah,” Peter replied with a hoarse broken voice. Turning his head away, giving Tony a clear view of his throat. The marks causing him to seethe. If they were in a cartoon, smoke would be coming out of his ears.

“Let’s get you back to the compound,” Peter could only nod, knowing he’d feel safer in the compound. 

“Tony?” The vigilante asked softly, ducking his head. He’d never actually called the man by name to his face.

“Yeah, buddy?” If Peter’s ears were still on the fritz, he’d say the man sounded breathless but he still wasn’t sure.

“You won’t let Skip…”

“No,” Tony’s voice was hard, god the kid had given a name which made him happy but the question acted as a hand reaching into his chest and squeezing his heart until it bled.

“I won’t let him anywhere near you, ever again,” Peter’s eyes squeezed shut at that, tears raining down his cheeks. Tony used his thumb to wipe those teardrops away.

“I’ll keep you safe kiddo,” He promised, as they began to head out. He’d never seen the boy look so small, childish, _vulnerable_. He wobbled and shivered as he stepped on the cool pavement once they got outside.

Tony cursed himself for not fishing out some of Peter’s socks or something. Inspecting the ground to make sure Peter didn’t step on anything else, he ushered him into the car.  As promised the divider was up leaving the two alone. Tony buckled the boy in, gently tucking the Iron-Man blanket around him.

“You knew who did this?” Tony couldn’t help but ask, all Peter did was nod.

“Can you tell me his last name?” 

“Skip Westcott,” Peter admitted softly, head falling onto Tony’s shoulder. Wanting to smother his face into his mentor's chest and hide, “After the first time a few years back he said he’d do it again but...I guess he was right,”

“This wasn’t the first time?” Tony ground out through clenched teeth.

“No,” Peter whispered, giving in and moving as close to his hero as possible. Tony wanted to apologize, blame himself for not protecting the boy, but he didn’t know Peter then.

He hadn’t known the sweet innocent boy in front of him had ever been hurt in such a way. If Tony was being honest he didn’t know much about Peter’s past at all, he hadn’t wanted to intrude on the young man’s privacy. Sure he’d figured out his school schedule and all, but he hadn’t looked into the confidential folders. At least now he knew what was in one of them.

The rest of the car ride Peter slept, Tony’s hand carefully and protectively holding the boy’s head against his throat. 

“Don’t worry Peter, they’ll never see the light of day again. Not if I have anything to say about it,” Peter slept on.  Tapping the divider, it lowered and Happy looked on from the rearview mirror.

“Is he alright?”

“No,” Tony whispered, looking out the window. 

“What can we do?’

“I think we give him some space, make him feel safe. Fri already contacted my therapist, hopefully, she’ll let us know what else we can do. But Happy I just don’t know,” The billionaire pinched his nose in frustration.

“I think May left a message,” Happy informed, watching the road carefully before checking back up on Peter in the mirror.  He may seem to just tolerate the kid, but he did care. The rest of the car ride was left to silence. Tony planned on listening to the message after he got Peter into bed.

\---

Tony didn’t want to wake the boy, so carrying him out was the only option. Happy making sure the boy’s limbs or head didn’t hit the car on his way out. The boy was light, incredibly so with his powers. Tony felt as if he was carrying a suitcase, or lifting Steve’s shield.   Firm but light, a tad heavier when limp and asleep. But he could still carry him without breaking a sweat.

Tony let Happy open the doors, push the elevator buttons, and even pull back the boy’s bed sheets so he could tuck him in. 

Happy went to leave, looking at Tony expectantly. But the billionaire simply made himself at home on the lazy boy he’d bought for the boy.

“I’m going to stay with him,” He explained, his friend nodded and shut the door leaving the two alone. Tony pushing a button on his phone only for the message to play.

_ “Was it that stupid Skip again? Is he okay? Please Tony last time Peter hurt himself, please I need you to promise to watch him. I don’t know what he can do now that he’s stronger, you need to protect him. Please, I can’t get any sooner flights with this snow, but please Tony you are the only one who can help him, stop him if you have to. He looked to you after the first time, but this time your here, he needs you,” _

“I will,” Tony promised in response, sending it through. He didn’t sleep that night, too busy looking through Skip’s records.

He’d find the bastard, _he would._

\---

Skip Westcott had been caught by morning.

\---

“Morning,” Tony greeted, “You ready to get fully patched up, or did you want to eat first?”

Peter’s stomach growling was all he needed, he’d wanted to help the injuries but Friday said it may be alright to let him eat.

“Chocolate chip pancakes sound good?” 

“Mhm,” the boy agreed, moving to get up. Only to cry out as his foot hit the floor, fractured hand catching him. Tony moved quickly enough to catch him the rest of the way, Tony also didn’t enjoy the sight of the bites on the boy’s neck when this close.

Apparently, his healing factor wasn’t as strong when in...a, not Spider-Man mentality. Not to mention his empty stomach.

“Fri have Happy or Rhodey make the pancakes,”

“Yes, sir,”

“I’m going to carry you, buddy, that okay?” The boy nodded, arms wrapping around the older man’s neck as he was lifted.

Helen Cho greeted them, she’d fixed the boy up many times before. Peter didn’t seem to mind her presence, giving a small wave. Tony sat him gently down on the bed, frowning at when Peter winced.

“I’ll start with your hand,” She let him know, examining the wound under a magnifying glass and removing the two tiny shards that had been left. Wrapping cotton around the appendage and wetting the cast material, she wound it tightly until it was set and hardened.

Peter was close to tears, free hand reaching for his mentor. Tony’s hand instantly finding it, “It’s okay darling, we’re okay,”

Peter sobbed when she’d begun on his foot, having to use shots to disinfect and help the swelling. It was tightly wrapped, but the worst was yet to come.

“Can you unzip this just a little?” Peter did as told pulling the zipper just passed his collarbone. He looked away, not wanting to face them as her gloved hands carefully inspecting the indents of teeth. He shivered at the touch, letting out a sob when he saw in his peripheral her reach for another set of needles.

Tony moved closer, letting the boy press his face in his shoulder as she continued. The whines deteriorated what was left of the man’s heart for the day. Maybe it deteriorated his mercy, he couldn’t be sure.

After the bites were properly taken care of, Helen carefully pulled the shoulder of the outfit down to inspect the large bruise. “Your scapula is broken,” she informed, getting out a sling. The hand was broken anyway, a sling wasn’t too much to add.

“Mr. Stark if you wouldn’t mind stepping out?”

“Why?” Tony asked defensively.

“I have to make sure that the...actions...hadn’t done any unseen damage, and do a few blood test and make sure nothing was transmitted,”

Tony gulped at that, noticing how Peter had gone blank.

“He can come back for the blood test?” The boy asked softly.

“Yes,”

Tony looked at the boy not wanting to part but understood, pressing a kiss to his hairline he spoke, “I’ll be just outside,” 

The billionaire stepped out, waiting until Helen brought him back in. Peter was engulfed in the onesie, hugging to himself and watching as Tony stepped in.  The man smiled, sitting down next to the boy as she got the needle ready. God, he hoped that bastard didn’t ruin his health. You better believe if he did though, he’d cure the incurable.

The needle was long causing Peter to shiver, Tony quickly hushing, “It’s okay,”

When it was done Peter’s head dropped in relief, slumping over once all was said and done. Happy came in a few moments later, chocolate pancakes on a tray with orange juice, bacon, and eggs.  Tony helped set the tray in his lap, cutting it before Peter could even try.

Helen quickly let them know she’ll have the results likely a little after he’s done eating. What she didn’t know was how fast Peter could eat, not to mention how much. Happy had to go back and make seconds.

Helen smiled at the news, “He’s clear,” 

“Oh thank god,” Tony breathed, sending a text to May and wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulder.

\---

Peter clad in Tony’s old Stark Industries apparel, sat awkwardly as he spoke with the therapist. Sobbing as he re-lived those old memories, drudged up his anxieties, fears, the sin he atoned for in letting Ben’s killer get away.

He wanted to scream he was broken, hurt, dirty. 

She suggested they focus on the most recent event, they did and Peter knew what Tony was doing now. He was talking with Skip.

“How does that make you feel?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t for a long time,” Peter admitted.

\---

“Holy shit you’re Tony Stark what the fuck is happening?”

“What’s happening is you’re getting locked up for putting your hands on my child,” Tony explained.

“Pete’s so not your kid,” Skip retorted.

“Don’t call him that,” Tony growled, fingers twitching, “Yes, he is my kid. But you know what even more important about that statement?”

Skip didn’t answer him, knowing whatever he said wouldn’t help him.

“Kid, the important part in that sentence is ‘kid’,” Tony growled, “You’re not a kid, you’re twenty-five. An adult now, he’s a fifteen-year-old boy who the first time you put your hands on had been twelve and you didn’t stop until he was thirteen,” Tony sounded sick with rage.

“He didn’t understand what you were doing, all he knew was he felt gross, dirty, filthy because what you did to him!”

“I think he knew what-”

“He was a child! He still is a child! Innocent, and you’re beyond lucky he still looks at the world as if he is,” Tony stopped to breathe, “I have never hated someone more than I hate you, and I’ve been betrayed by the people I’ve cared most about,”

“I’ve put so much faith in people who’ve left me behind. Do you know what Peter did after the first time you put your hands on him? I think you know, and I won’t let him leave me because he felt the only way to get away from you is to die,”  Skip was smart and kept his mouth shut as the man continued. 

“I love my son more than life itself, and I’d love to end your life so he doesn’t have to fear you ever again,” Skip’s eyes were horrified at the statement.

“But I love him too much to do that too, he’ll know with me around and you locked far and deep away beneath the goddamn fucking sea. He’ll be okay,” Tony honest to god laughed, maniacally.

“Say goodbye to your freedom, and the sun too, because filthy scum such as yourself belong at the bottom of the ocean where you’ll wither into nothing,”

\---

May hugged her nephew to her heart's content, Peter sobbing into her arms. They cried together, Tony backing out of the room to leave the two alone.

\---

Tony waited just outside the door of every appointment, he sat with Peter after he slipped into an old habit and cut far too deep. The billionaire held him as he cried about that night, reassured him that he wasn’t dirty.

“I love you kiddo, remember that,”

“I love you too,” The boy sobbed.  
  



End file.
